Those Returning
by Peaches the First
Summary: Another Reunion Fic, but I like it. Rated for chapters to come. My first recess fic, so be nice! rr, s'il vous plait! CHAPTER 5 FINALLY UP! Still gonna leave you hanging, though! lol! Peaches
1. The Invitation

Those Returning  
by Peaches  
  
A/N: "We studied a poem in English class last spring and, believe it or not, I've been thinking about it a lot lately. It's about a young soldier-king named Ulysses who sails off to fight a long and bitter war in a far away country. On his sea-journey home he gets battered off course a few times and endures many adventures. When he finally drags himself out of the waves and onto his own shores he's a lot older then he was when he left. In more ways than one . . . " Excerpt from Forbidden City, by William Bell.   
I thought this would be an okay introduction to my fic. It sort of ties in with the idea of growing up. Love 'n' cookies, ~Peaches  
  
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Seriously, got any change?  
1. The Invitations  
  
When they received their invitations, none of the former gang was sure if they wanted to go to the reunion. Sure, it would mean catching up with each other, remembering old times, possibly seeing old flames, but, it would be uncomfortable.  
  
When the invites arrived, they were all doing something different.   
  
Theodor Detwheiler had been grading papers for his university Archeology and Anthropology classes. He had recently been on a dig in Peru, and there was a pile of ungraded papers waiting for him when he returned to Yale, where he was a professor. After writing his article for National Geographic, he started at the monster pile.  
  
Vincent LaSalle was writing up invoices for his restaurant chain, casually named 'LaSalle's'. He'd opened it after earning a business and foods degree in France. It was one of the largest restaurant chains in North America. He had even been on the cover of time .  
  
Gretchen had just gotten home from the laboratory, where she'd spent many nights that past month, researching and conducting experiments on her specimens. She was a world renowned astrophysicist, and was the first woman on the moon, as well as the first person on Mars. She was a widely celebrated figure on Woman's Rights Day, and had spoken at many schools all over the world on the importance of education.  
  
Gustav Griswold had just gotten back from dinner with his wife, Teresa, formerly known as Cornchip Girl. He was a Commissioned Officer in the United States Army, and an agent in the FBI, though he was more well known as the bodyguard who took a bullet for President Rebecca Benson. Teresa was a social worker who worked with young offenders and counselled families with drug and alcohol related problems. They had two children, Joan, 3, and Peter, 5.  
  
Michael Blumberg was revising the script from his play, Playground, to be preformed on Broadway within the following year. His first play, "Uncouth And Well-Mannered", had been a smash hit, and was dubbed 'one for the ages, as Les Miz, or Cats'. He was immensely proud of his work as a director and playwright.   
  
Ashley Spinelli was studying her lines for her upcoming movie, Jane Bond: The Next Generation, when her invitation arrived. In highschool, she'd landed a role in a Hollywood Brat-pack film that had been shot in her hometown. After that, her career had exploded, putting her on more covers then almost any other actress or actor in history. She was accepted to Yale on a scholarship, and had been huge ever since, known as Hollywood's little tough girl. She also spent a lot of time and money on charities, like Big Brothers/ Big Sisters, North American Cancer Society, and other causes.  
  
Each invitation read:  
  
'Dear (their names here),  
  
Your upcoming 10-Year High School Reunion to Washington High will be held on the 28 of July, in the gymnasium of Washington High, starting at 4:30 p.m.. There will be an informal gathering, then an introduction at 5:30, followed by speeches from former faculty and students. Dinner will be served at 7, followed by a formal gathering and drinks. Please RSVP if you are able to attend.   
  
Sincerely,  
Mr Dudekoff,  
Principal  
  
PS: Those who have been chosen to present a speech will find a letter inclosed in this invitation.'  
Imagine the surprise of all the former friends, each one finding a letter inclosed in their invitations, reading:  
  
'If you are reading this, you are one of the eight former Washington High School students chosen to present a speech on your experiences while and after attending the school. The chosen speech makers are:  
  
- Ashley Armbruister, President of Ashley Cosmetics  
  
- Meghan Feraire, Designer of The Feraire Collection  
  
- Theodor Detwhieler, Professor of Archaeology and Anthropology at Yale University, Discoverer of Nefertiti's Tomb, Syria  
  
- Vincent LaSalle, Owner of 'LaSalle's'  
  
- Gretchen Grundler, Astrophysicists, First Woman on the Moon and Mars  
  
- Gustav Griswold, Presidential Bodyguard and FBI agent  
  
- Michael Blumburg, Broadway director and playwright  
  
- Ashley Spinelli, Hollywood Actress and Charity Worker  
  
Please inform us if you accept this honour. Your speech must not exceed 5 minutes.   
  
Thank You,   
Mr Dudekoff,  
Principal'  
  
'I guess,' each one found themselves thinking, 'I could go, for old time's sake.'   
  
That's how each one found themselves jetting homeward toward Concord, Arkansas, to attend their high school reunion. Spinelli from Hollywood, Theodor from Connecticut, Gus and Teresa from Washington, Vince from New Orleans, Mikey from New York, and Gretchen from Nevada (location classified), all boarded planes and sped toward Concord. Each one had changed dramatically in their time away from the innocent city. Each had grown up in profound ways, some for the better, some for the worse.   
  
Whoever said "You can't go home again"?  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
A/N: There you go. Chapter 1. r/r, please!! Love 'n' cookies, ~Peaches 


	2. Divine Secrects of the Third Street Comp...

Those Returning  
by Peaches  
  
A/N: Glad you liked the first chapter! Gonna get a little deep now. PS to CradleRock about your 'curious side question': Rebecca 'Becky' Benson was that little bitch that stole Gretchen's science project, r'member? And you call yourself a fan! Lol! j/k! Any hoo, this chapter is a bunch of flashbacks to when the gang was close, and why they grew apart. This chapter is mostly TJ and Spin, but there's some Gretch and Gus, and Gretch and Spin (NOT IN A SLASH WAY!). r/r, and I'm open to suggestions for other flashbacks (For later Chapters).  
  
Disclaimer: Standard  
  
2. Divine Secrets of the Third Street Companionship (okay, it's a little bit of a ripoff, but...)  
  
October 15, 2001  
  
Spinelli felt a tear trickle down her left cheek as she sat cross-legged in the old tree house, her long, raven black hair wisping around her heart-shaped face. She snuggled deeper into her old jean jacket and let out a staggered sigh.   
  
She remembered the summer when the gang was about 7, when they'd all set out to build this place in TJ's backyard. They'd toiled the whole summer, working in the hot sun for hours, until, a week before school opened for the year, it was complete. Not the most amazing architectural masterpiece, she granted, but it was theirs. It was a sacred place. Secrets had been passed on between these four, crude walls that no other being on earth knew, with, perhaps the exception of a much beloved pet or teddy bear.  
  
Spinelli looked at the white pill bottle in her hand. She traced over the name with her painted black nail and felt another tear squeeze its way out of her russet left eye. She shook the bottle, listening to the satisfying rattle of tablets. She counted in her mind the number to take.  
There were only 15 left in the bottle.  
  
10, she decided. No, 12, just to be sure it worked. She couldn't have them find her and be able to save her.   
  
She snorted cynically. Like anyone'd try to save her. Her step-father would just shrug, pretend to be sad, then go back to making her mother's life miserable. Her father might fly down from Dakota, maybe her brothers would come in for the funeral, if Joey managed to stay out of jail long enough and Vitto could get out of his exams in time. She didn't know if any of the gang would go. Gretchen was mad at her, Vince was a jock, and 'banned' from talking to her, by the rules of social standings. Gus might go. She really had no beef with him. The ultimate compliment would be if Mikey wrote a poem and read it as a eulogy. And Teej... we'll he might go, or he might not. It all depended on if he'd forgiven her, like Gretchen wouldn't.  
  
They had gotten into a stupid fight. Rumours had flown around school that Spinelli had been talking about them behind their backs, which she hadn't. They didn't even ask her about it, they'd just stopped talking to her.  
  
'Who need's 'em,' she thought spitefully, unscrewing the bottle with shaking hands. Deep down, she really did want someone to find her. She needed to know someone cared, even just a little bit.   
  
"Who's up there!?" she heard a familiar voice call from the ground. She looked at the pills in her hand and started to sob. She barely heard TJ climb up the ladder to the door. "Spinelli?"   
  
"Teej," she nodded, stammering slightly as her shoulders shook.  
  
"What in gods name do you think you're doing here!?" he demanded angrily, not seeing the bottle. She kicked it toward him with just as much animosity.  
  
"Figure it out, Sherlock!" She yelled, not stopping the torrents that flooded from her eyes. TJ sat there next to the door, his mouth hanging open with shock and confusion.  
  
"Spin, are you... why would you wanna OD?" he staggered after a moment of the silence roaring in both their ears. She breathed in deeply, struggling to regain composure. She'd already lost enough dignity tonight.  
  
"You care?" she asked coldly. TJ rubbed his temples in a desperate frustration, urgently trying to keep her from doing something stupid. The pills were still gripped tightly in her clenched fist.   
  
"Of course I care!" he said in exasperation, half laughing as he tried to think of a time when he didn't care about her. "You're my best friend!" He inched closer to her, careful in case she was unstable, which, let's face it, she probably was, considering she'd nearly killed herself. "Spin, you've always been my best friend! Remember when you told me your parents were getting divorced, and I said you could talk to me whenever you needed to?"  
  
Spinelli nodded.  
  
"I meant it!" he exclaimed. "And, remember when my brother Ricky got in that car accident, and I was scared he wasn't gonna make it?"  
  
She nodded again.  
  
"I told you because I couldn't tell anybody else!" He held out his hand, hoping she'd give him the pills. She stared dumbly at the outreached hand of the 13 year old boy she'd lived 3 doors down from her whole life. "Gimme the pills, Ashley," he demanded softly, his still-shaggy chestnut hair blowing around his freckled face.  
  
Finally, she gave him the 12 small, yet lethal, white pills. Then, as he hugged her, she realized he'd called her by her first name. Then she realized something even more startling...  
  
She didn't care.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
April 6, 1998  
  
"Seriously, Gus, wait up!" Gretchen Grundler found herself yelling to her friend. He laughed and waited at the top of the rocky hill for the girl to catch up.  
  
"If we don't hurry," he called back, seeing her ease her way up the rock surface,"the gang's gonna think we're not comin'!"  
  
The gang was supposed to meet in five minutes at the top of the hill in The Clearing, which overlooked the city. TJ had found something in his attic and wanted to show the gang what it was. He'd made it sound really important. But, if Gretchen didn't hurry up, they were going to miss it.  
  
"I'm going as fast as I can," Gretchen grumbled, trying to find footing as she reached the steepest part of the hill, which was 6 feet away from the top. It was a nearly vertical span to reach the summit of 'Wolf Hill'.   
  
When she only had a foot or so left, Gus stood up and started away, figuring Gretchen would catchup when she reached the top. He didn't expect what happened next.  
  
"GUS!!"  
  
Gretchen's ear splitting scream cut through the placid spring air like a verbal knife. It was so urgent, Gus lost no time in racing back to the edge of the cliff-like hill. He looked over, and saw Gretchen hanging by one hand off the vicious stone face of the incline.  
  
"Hang on!" Gus called, then kicked himself mentally. What else was she going to do, except hang on? He scooted himself on his stomach to the edge and reached down his hand. Gretchen looked absolutely terrified she reached her free palm toward his. He grabbed her hand, and, with all the strength his fifth grade body could muster, pulled the lanky girl up to safety.   
  
After a moment of shock, safely back on solid ground, both youths laughed, then, without a word, continued toward the meeting place.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
February 26, 2003  
  
"Spin? Are you in here?"  
  
Hearing Gretchen's voice, Spinelli scrambled to her feet from on the tile flooring of the district regulated school washroom. She lurched once more involuntarily, but regained composure and flushed the toilet. She opened the door casually and passed Gretchen, who gazed with worry at her noticeably skinny friend. Spinelli washed her hands and swished some water around in her mouth.  
  
"Hey Gretch," she said, waving slightly after she spit it out.   
  
"Why are you doing this to yourself?" Gretchen asked, cutting short with the small-talk. Spinelli feigned a look of confusion.   
  
"Doing what?" she asked offhandedly. Gretchen shook her head in a sort of pity. Spinelli sighed. "Look, Gretch, thanks for worrying, but I'm alright. You don't know the business like I do."  
  
Spinelli was referring, of course, to the acting business. She'd co-starred in a huge movie last year, and, as a result, was in the public eye constantly. In fact, on top of all her homework and social life, she was in the midst of learning lines for a movie to be shot in the neighbouring state of Louisiana that coming summer. It was bearing down on her soon-to-be 16 year old body continuously.  
  
"Spin, you're only hurting yourself," Gretchen chastised the raven haired girl. "You're going to breakdown!" And Spinelli was the last person that needed to diet. Gretchen had always envied her friends curves, being a stick, herself.  
  
"I'm fine, Gretch!" Spinelli laughed naively, as though the idea were preposterous. She popped a piece of gum into her mouth and strode out of the girls washroom, carrying, within her teenaged body, burdens no one, in Gretchen's opinion, should ever have to go through.  
  
Two days later, Gretchen went to visit Spinelli in the hospital after she collapsed of fatigue in the middle of an English presentation...  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
July 4, 2004  
  
How many years had he spent staring at her from his desk? How many times had he stayed over at her house since kindergarten? How long had he wanted to be a part of her life as more then a friends?  
  
Why should he suffer?  
  
There she sat in her blissful innocence, totally unaware of the 17 yer old boy she was slowly killing from the inside out. She smiled at him with a sort of amusement on her heart-shaped face, her almond shaped eyes laughing at the puppy-dog look on his face as he studied the features he knew so well.   
  
"You okay?" she asked him slowly, as the first of the fireworks rose into the clear night air, snapping into a thousand little red and blue lights before fading into the dusk. TJ nodded and Spinelli went back to watching the display. The Fourth of July was her favourite holiday, simply because it gave her an excuse to play with fireworks for a week up-to and including. She could still feel TJ staring at her as they sat in the treehouse, watching the city fireworks display on the near horizon.  
  
"Are you stalking me or something?" she asked playfully after a few more minutes of his eyes on her neck.   
  
Without a word, and much to both the youths surprise, TJ leaned forward and kissed her. Her eyes were wide as he pulled back a moment later, almost as if they were reliving the moment in fourth grade when they'd been forced to kiss in the schoolyard.  
  
"Oh my God." That was all she could say. She'd just been kissed by her best friend, and all she could say was "Oh my God."  
  
"I... I..." TJ scrambled and stuttered over his own words. "I'm sorry, Spin!" He grew beat red and ran his hand through his chestnut hair sheepishly.   
  
Imagine his surprise when she kissed him back...  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
A/N: So, you like? Well, r/r s'il vous plait! Love 'n' cookies, ~Peaches 


	3. Lectures

Those Returning  
  
by Peaches  
  
A/N: Aw, you like me! lol! And, to RetroHottie, the last chapter was like in the movies, when people have flashbacks, not necessarily reliving the past. It was meant to outline their relationship development. Sorry if it confused anybody.  
  
3. Lectures  
  
"Uncle TJ!" Yelled a small, chestnut haired girl in pigtails, running out of the house as he climbed out of his black Lexus. She had strawberry ice cream staining her white shirt and grass stains on the knees of her jeans. TJ smiled and scooped up the young girl, planting a kiss on her cheek as her mother walked out onto the porch, carrying a 9 month old boy with dark brown hair on her shoulder. The early summer breeze blew his own shaggy hair into his eyes.  
  
"Hey, little brother," the tall, willowy woman greeted him as he set her daughter down and pulled his bags out of the back of the vehicle. He grinned at her, some of his boyish innocence returning to his 28 year old face, which was still noticeably dotted with tiny freckles across his nose.  
  
"Hey, Becky," he said to his older sister, as his little 8 year old niece grabbed one of his smaller bags and hauled it inside. He walked up the front steps and stood in front of his sibling for a moment, trying to look serious before both of them broke into wide grins. He hugged her and picked his bags back up, following her into the old house from his boyhood days. Becky set the baby down in his playpen and lead TJ upstairs.  
  
  
  
Their parents had long-since moved to Florida, leaving the house to Becky and her husband, Jake Hepditch. Not much had changed, except for a few pieces of new furniture and a few new coats of paint in some rooms. TJ smiled as he remembered to step over the top step to the second floor, which had always creaked. Becky lead him to his old room. He gazed around it with a look of respectful remembrance. His one and only baseball trophy still sat on his bureau next to his old reading lamp. His old computer, now obsolete, was still on his desk with old comics and other books.  
  
"I never got around to moving your old stuff out," Becky explained as she watched TJ set his bags down on the bed. He smiled. "We're glad you came to visit," she continued. "The only time we get to see you is at Christmas down at mom and dad's. You haven't even been home since you were 19."   
  
"Yeah, well," TJ shrugged, "I've been a little busy, you know? Egypt, Syria, Guatemala, Peru, Ecuador, Newfoundland . . . Or maybe you haven't noticed all the magazines mom keeps sending with my picture on them."  
  
"Yeah, yeah," Becky said playfully, "We got them." She smiled as her daughter finally hauled the bag into her uncle's room. "Elsie, why don't you go watch Jason while I talk to your uncle?" she suggested softly. Elsie nodded importantly and scurried off down the stairs to guard her baby brother. Becky sat on the edge of the bed while TJ unpacked. "You know, Teej, I've been meaning to talk to you."  
  
"Don't start," TJ muttered, knowing what she was going to say. Becky bit her lip and continued, pressing her luck with his temper, which she knew wasn't easily provoked.  
  
"I'm just saying, she's going to be in town again, and you should talk to her . . . "   
  
"Don't," TJ said simply. "Alright? I know I should talk to her, but . . . I just can't."  
  
"I've gotta go start supper," Becky excused herself, looking sympathetic. As she left, Theodore sighed with frustration. Leave it to Becky to dredge up all the old memories he'd been fighting since he'd stepped off the plane, and back onto the soil of his boyhood.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
"Are you sure you don't want me to arrange for a bodyguard?"  
  
Ashley Mignonette Spinelli sighed impatiently at her new assistant, a young, zit-blasted twenty-something year old, fresh out of the academy, no doubt with a rich daddy funding his designer label suits. His name was Nelson, and he had to be the most annoying employee she'd ever worked with.   
  
"Nelson, this is Concord, Arkansas," Ashley explained carefully, flipping her newly styled raven hair over her shoulder. "Not Los Angeles. The craziest person in this town is that guy who stands outside Kelso's on Saturday mornings handing out Anarchist information pamphlets . . . if he's still alive!"  
  
Nelson looked at her like she had grown a second head.   
  
  
  
"Are you sure this is a good idea?" he asked haughtily. "I mean, not many celebrities would admit they came from this gods-forsaken dust-bowl." He gazed with distain out the window of the limousine, which Spinelli hadn't even wanted to take, considering only person rich enough to take a limo in Concord was Thaddeus T. Third the Fifth (or, was it Sixth, now?), and, despite her occupation, she hated drawing unnecessary attention to herself.  
  
"I'm quite proud of the fact I came from Arkansas, Nelson," Spinelli told him matter-of-factly, with a hint of lemon in her voice. "I'll have you know that my first movie was shot in my old high school."  
  
"Mmm hmm," Nelson murmured, not listening. Thankfully, before Nelson could flaunt any more of the superior knowledge he'd acquired on Jeopardy, Ashley Spinelli saw the house of her childhood come into view. She breathed in with emotion as the modest, slate gray, two-storey house loomed, casting over her the shadows of her past.   
  
"Pick me up at four on the twenty-eighth," she instructed Nelson coldly as she grabbed both of her suitcases and climbed out of the limousine. She was still cross from the 'gods-forsaken dust-bowl' comment he'd made a few moments prior. Without so much as a goodbye to Nelson, she thanked the driver, a pleasant middle-aged man named Tom, and slammed the door. The limo drove off toward the hotel booked for them, and Spinelli breathed in deeply, anything but ready to face the skeletons in the Spinelli Family's proverbial closet.  
  
Her mother was outside to meet her before she even got to the porch.   
  
"Pookie!" she cried, throwing her arms around her only daughter and squeezing her. Spinelli laughed and hugged her mother back.  
  
"Hey, Ma," she said, struggling to keep a hold on her luggage. "You look great!" she told Flo as they parted. Flo was, indeed, still very attractive for someone her age. Her hair was still dark, with only wisps of silvery grey forming, and she still had an hourglass figure, though it was somewhat plumper then Spinelli remembered. Flo shrugged and smiled.  
  
"I've got spaghetti ready for supper," she said. "And Rod's inside."  
  
Spinelli's smile faded slightly at the mention of her step-father's name. He, she knew, had never liked his step-children much. He was a 'social drinker', basically a kind was of saying a drunk, and he had been known to be abusive at times.  
  
"Great, Ma," Spinelli said cheerfully, not wanting to spoil her mother's mood. She followed her mother inside and shut the door behind her.   
  
'Woah,' she thought, 'time warp!" Basically, nothing in the house had changed. There was the same furniture, wallpaper, carpets, basically everything except the appliances, which were, while not as new as the ones in Spinelli's own Sunset Boulevard home, fairly up-to-date.  
  
"Rod!" Flo called out as they walked in. "Can you carry Ashley's suitcases upstairs?" The response was a barely audible grunt from somewhere in the den. Flo smiled apologetically. "How was your flight?"   
  
  
  
"Fine," Spinelli said shortly, not liking to brag about first class. "Long, tiring, but otherwise okay."  
  
"I doubt Rod will be up any time soon," Flo muttered grimly, then smiled, "so, why don't you and me catch up over some spaghetti?"  
  
Spinelli grinned. It had been a long time since she'd had any of her mother's home cooking.  
  
"Excellent," Spinelli smiled.  
  
Later, over coffee, Flo brought up the subject Spinelli had been dreading since she'd gotten home.  
  
"I hear Theodore is home," Florence said casually, taking a sip of her coffee, but Spinelli could read her mother like a book.   
  
"Really?" she'd said with as much disinterest as she could fake. She sipped the brew quickly. Two, she decided, could play at this game.  
  
"Got himself a job at Yale, on the cover of Time, and National Geographic, and People's 30 People Under 30 Who Will Change the World List . . . " Flo prattled on for a few moments about the achievements he'd conquered in only 10 years. Spinelli looked at the floor in shame.  
  
"What's your point, Mother?" she asked with slight annoyance "I was on the Top 30 List, too". Her own deep chocolate eyes met her mother's, and, for a moment, neither spoke. Flo gave her daughter a look of sympathy.  
  
"You know what my point is," she said firmly. "And I suggest you take heed of it before you screw up . . . again."  
  
"I'll have you know," Ashley said steadily, "that I am doing quite alright for myself. I'm famous! People come up to me on the street everyday and ask for my autograph! I live next-door to Drew Barrymore, for Christ's Sake!"  
  
"Watch your language!" Flo warned. Flo was a very religious Roman Catholic. Spinelli sighed and continued.  
  
"I've been in 15 movies in 13 years! I've guest starred on The Simpsons, Will and Grace, 8 Simple Rules, Law and Order, and I've been on The Kelly Show, and countless other tv shows!" For some reason, Spinelli felt it important to list off some of her more impressive achievements as well. "I've been on Broadway, and I've won Oscars, and Golden Globes, and a Peoples Choice Award, and I've been on the cover of nearly every entertainment magazine in North America! I've even been honoured by Amnesty International and World Vision!" She finally fumed out her last words. "I am NOT a screw up, thank you very much! You know," she said sardonically, "If you're so proud of TJ's accomplishments, maybe he should be your son!"  
  
"He could have been," Flo shot back calmly. Spinelli stopped dead, her words caught in her throat. "And," Flo continued, "if you have such a good new life, why do you have to convince yourself?"  
  
Spinelli sighed angrily, knowing her mother was right, but having too much pride to admit so. She felt tears burning the back of her throat, but swallowed them back.  
  
"I don't need this," she muttered. "I swear I don't need this! I have to give a speech in front of people who hated me in high school, but are going to pretend they're my best friend! My new assistant is a rude, high society dick, and, to top it all off, I have three scripts to read through while I'm in town!" She sighed again and looked at her mother pleadingly. "I'm finally a somebody! I'm not the pigtailed little brat I was in elementary school! Please, try to be proud of me!"  
  
"I am proud of you," she assured her daughter gently. "I just wish you wouldn't run away from your problems. You've done it ever since you were small. Remember when you were 6, and you broke my favourite lamp. Rather then face me, you ran away to Gretchen's house. Mind you, it was only a block away." Flo sighed and took her daughter's hand comfortingly. "I know you're a somebody. I never thought you were a nobody! When you won the Globe for Best Supporting Actress back in high school, I was prouder of you then I had ever been!" Again she paused and watched her daughter's smoldering eyes brim with tears of shame. "You know what you have to do."  
  
Spinelli stared into her mother's gentle eyes once more, and, finally, she nodded.  
  
"Fine," she said grudgingly, "I'll talk to him."  
  
"When?" Flo pressed. Spinelli smiled gratefully at her mother.  
  
"At the reunion."  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~ 


	4. Brains, Dudes, and the Occasional Skateb...

Those Returning  
  
by Peaches  
  
A/N: Sigh... Well, I have bad news for anyone who likes my writing or stories... Come September... I'm going to be banned from the computer for everything but school projects. Stupid grades, which by the way, had nothing to do with the computer, went down (I'm still top of the class in English, so I don't see what my parents are bitching about...) Anyway, just thought I'd let you all know so you wouldn't get mad if it's a long time between installments. Now, back to your regularly scheduled fic...  
  
4. Brains, Dudes, and the Occasional Skateboarder  
  
"SPINELLI!"  
  
Spinelli looked up from her magazine and put her coffee down as she did. Standing in the doorway of Kelso's was a tall, beautiful woman with short red hair to her ears. Spinelli stared hard at the woman, trying to place her in her memory...  
  
"Oh my God!" Spinelli exclaimed, realizing who she was seeing. "Gretchen?"  
  
It was, indeed, the brain from her childhood years who had just walked through the doors of the much beloved childhood hangout, though if anyone could see a resemblance between the bespectacled little girl from the past and the beauty striding through that door, they deserved a medal.   
  
Gretchen Grundler's gangly pre-image was now cast aside, leaving in its wake a tall, slim, auburn haired woman with a perfect smile and lightly freckled cheeks. She was now about 5'10", her copper hair cut in a style not unlike that of Cameron Diaz', wearing, at that moment, an Armani tan leather jacket over a scoop-neck black babydoll tee-shirt and a pair of denim jeans that flattered her slender figure perfectly. Her glasses had been replaced with contacts, Spinelli assumed, considering Gretchen's face was absent of any lenses. With amazement at her former friend's image, Spinelli wondered for a moment if her own features had altered so dramatically as well.   
  
"Oh, my god, it's been ages!" Gretchen remarked, hugging Spinelli tightly as the raven haired girl stood from her booth seat to meet her. "I can't believe it's really you!"  
  
"That makes two of us!" Spinelli laughed as she was released. "Oh, man, how've you been?" she asked, then laughed and shook her head. "Wait, stupid question."  
  
"No, not stupid," Gretchen laughed as well, taking a seat in the booth across from Spinelli. "My work's been great, but life in general has been even better!" She extended her left hand to her old friend, revealing a rock that looked like it had come straight from a diamond mine in Brazil that day. A huge stone set in a white gold band with tiny, intricate yellow gold roses on a vine tracing the band. Spinelli took a breath as she inspected it.  
  
"Who in the world did you catch who could afford a piece of hardware like this!?" she asked in amazement. Gretchen giggled.  
  
"Remember Theodor's old friend Frank?" she asked, giggling again. "One of 'the Pale Kids' from room 51 back at Third Street?" Tensing slightly at TJ's name, Spinelli nodded. "I met up with him two years ago at NASA. He's an engineer there."   
  
"My god, you are full of surprises," Spinelli smiled. "Have a date picked for the wedding?"  
  
"He only proposed a few weeks ago!" Gretchen said. "I've been flat out busy with work since then, so no. How have you been?"  
  
"Wow, how could I ever top that?" Spinelli laughed. "What are golden globes compared to marriage?"  
  
Spinelli saw Gretchen's face dim slightly as she said that. She must have only just remembered the past.  
  
"I saw your last movie," she said quickly to cover up the moment. "And I never miss any of your interviews. God, what's it like? I mean, I was on the cover of time, but you've been everywhere! You did some charity work in Ethiopia for Amnesty International recently, didn't you?"  
  
Spinelli nodded. "I was helping to repair damages from the war over there a while back. It's amazing work. I never thought I'd ever be there in my life! But it's so exhausting, and it's rare to get a moment without the press tailing you."  
  
"Any new movies or anything coming up?" Gretchen asked. "The humble public wants to know!"  
  
Laughing, Spinelli nodded again. "Yeah, but I'm under contract not to say anything! Sorry!"  
  
"No problem," Gretchen chuckled. All was silent for a moment. Only the sound of the slush machine whirring broke the eerie silence. "Have you seen Theodore lately?" Gretchen finally asked in a tone not unlike that which Spinelli's mother had used. Spinelli looked down at her chipping French manicure and shook her head.  
  
"Not lately," she muttered. She could feel Gretchen's look of sympathy on her as she clicked her nails on the table, still looking down.   
  
"Look, Spinelli..." Gretchen started.  
  
"Gretch, I really don't wanna talk about it right now, okay?" Spinelli cut her off, just a hint of snap in her voice. Gretchen bit her lip and nodded. She understood. Not everyone enjoyed dredging up the past.   
  
"Well, I should go," Gretchen said with a hint of being hurt and uncomfortable. "I just came to pick up something for dinner for me and Frank."  
  
Spinelli sighed and rubbed her temples. "Gretch, I'm sorry," she sighed, knowing her mouth had gotten her in trouble again.  
  
"No, really, you're right," Gretchen said understandingly, her anger melting, "I was out of line to bring it up in the first place." She smiled at the black haired woman for a moment before disappearing into one of the food aisles. Spinelli sighed. Why was she the only one who didn't want to remember the past?  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
"Oh my god, it's Ashley Spinelli!"  
  
Spinelli had a hard time suppressing a smile. She felt like laughing every time she heard that. She was all out embarrassed at award shows when someone wanted to interview her. She thought it was outright hilarious that she could still draw attention in jeans and a teeshirt.   
  
She felt a twinge of nostalgia seeing that the outside of Washington High was still a favourite skateboarding spot due to the absence of a skate park during the summer, even after all these years. Three boys and a girl, all in their teens, were riding the rail on the stairs... or at least attempting to. The girl looked so familiar to her, Spinelli had a hard time remembering she hadn't been home in 10 years, and that these kids would have been in kindergarten or first grade when she graduated.  
  
Spinelli walked passed the four skateboarders and up the concrete stairs to her old high school slowly, memories playing like ghosts before her eyes. She saw where Theodor had stood, delivering a rousing speech in front of protesting students when the school board tried to cut the teachers wages. She saw where Vince and Lawson had scrapped it out during their second year over the results of the football tryouts (when Lawson made receiver and Vince made Quarterback). As she ventured into the building, she found more ghosts lurking around the corners. Grinning, she saw her name still carved into the edge a wooden desk that was still sitting outside old Mrs Lewis' classroom, where she had spent many a class sitting for misbehaving. She fleetingly thought of looking on the roof to see if her spray-paint "Geo-glyph" graffiti was still there. After hearing Gretchen talk about giant pictures carved in the desert sand by natives hundreds of years earlier that could be seen from space, she had decided to leave her own little piece of history. Of course, now she had a star on the Walk of Fame, but she had no way of knowing she would get one way back then.  
  
Spinelli made her way to the Main Office, surprised she still knew her way around after ten years. She stood at the front desk and cleared her throat at the male secretary, who looked oddly familiar.  
  
"Yes, what do you..." the man started. He gaped at Spinelli through small, black framed glasses then smiled. "Ashley Spinelli, Detention Queen. It's been a while." Spinelli grinned.  
  
"Hey Menlow," she smiled. "Gonna write me up as 10 years tardy?" Menlow grinned.  
  
"You thanked your hometown last Oscars, I think I can let you off this time," he laughed. Spinelli laughed and shook her head in disbelief.   
  
"It's been too damn long," she muttered. "Is Frank in? There's that many summer-schoolers her, he's probably working full time, hmm?"  
  
"He's in the gymnasium, I believe," Menlow said, "Overseeing preparations for the reunion."  
  
"Thanks, Menlow," she said, waving as she made her way out of the office.  
  
"Spinelli?" Menlow called after her. She stopped and looked back. Menlow smiled. "Welcome home."  
  
"Thanks," Spinelli grinned, then made her way out to the gymnasium. She found Principal Dudekoff directing people on ladders.  
  
"Well, well, well," he said as he saw her enter. "I see our star has returned to us. What is a celebrity of your magnitude doing in out humble gym?"  
  
"I'm asking myself the same question," she laughed. Mr Dudekoff laughed and shook Spinelli's hand. He was still in terrific shape for a 40-something year old. His hair was still brown, with only hints of grey at his temples.  
  
"Welcome back, kid," he said. "We're proud of you."  
  
"Thank you, sir. I just came to give you something in person," Spinelli said. She reached into her purse and pulled out a slip of paper; a check. Mr Dudekoff read the check and his eyes grew wide.   
  
"Well, ahem," he stuttered. "It's... a generous offer, Spinelli...but... I'm sure you're mistaken with the zeros... math was never your strong point, you always had a tendency to round up your answers..."  
  
"Please, just take it," Spinelli pleaded. "It's for the school. I just didn't want to make it too public." Mr Dudekoff chuckled.  
  
"That's rather ironic, coming from you," he said. "Well, if you're sure, Ms Spinelli, I am happy to accept it on behalf of the school. I'm sure the drama club will appreciate it, especially. You know, they consider you a demi-god." Spinelli grinned.  
  
"I'm sure they will appreciate it," she said. "And who knows, maybe I'll come to a performance next time I'm in town. Thank you, Mr Dudekoff." With that, she waved and made her way out of the gym.   
  
"Oh, and Miss Spinelli?" Dudekoff called after her. She turned to him. "I am looking forward to your speech." Spinelli smiled and left.  
  
She walked outside into the warm, dry Arkansas summer air and saw the skateboarders still ollying and trying to pull tricks. She smiled and realized she was wearing her sneakers.  
  
"Hey, guys," she said, stopping them all dead in their tracks. She grinned as they all looked at her speechlessly. "Got a spare board?"  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~ 


	5. Ghosts

Those Returning  
  
by Peaches the First (note the name change)  
  
5. Ghosts  
  
TJ's black Lexus cruised lazily down the streets of Concord as he took the "nostalgia" tour of his boyhood. He'd seen Kelso's, and saw a woman walking out who looked remarkably familiar, tall with copper hair. He'd visited the old lake where he'd spent many summers just lying around with the old crew. He'd even gone so far as to check out The Clearing at Wolf Hill. He grinned to himself as he pulled into the parking lot of the most memorable building. It still stood out in his memory when he thought back to his puerility.  
  
Good Old Third Street Elementary.  
  
The swings creaked anciently, and TJ swore he saw a bushel of curly red hair. A lonely hole lay under the shade of Butch's old Story Tree. He saw a new flag over the Ashley's former clubhouse, but all he could see was the pink one he had mailed back to them piece by piece!   
  
Correction, he and the old gang.  
  
For the first time in a long time, he smelled to freshly cut grass that could only be from Third Street. He smelled the industrial slop from the cafeteria, heard the echos of long age games of Battle Tag and Kickball.  
  
He hesitated for a moment, then looked around to make sure no one was watching. Then, carefully, he climbed the bars to the top of New Rusty. Did they still call it that? Or was it old again?  
  
He scanned the playground and breathed in deeply. It was a lot smaller than he remembered, but still held the same air of... he couldn't find word to describe it. Mischief? No. Hooliganism? No, but he could already hear Muriel Finster scolding him for climbing at such a mature age.  
  
He frowned sadly. Muriel must be long gone by now. What state was the playground in now? Did the Kindergartners still run ramped? Did the First graders still act like brats? Did the Fifth graders and Fourth graders still have their Kickball rivalry?   
  
He didn't even hear the person next to him until they poked him out of his thoughts.  
  
"Hey, Mister, are you deaf? I asked what you're doing here!"  
  
TJ looked at the child and smiled softly. She couldn't have been older than ten. Her black hair was chopped to her shoulders, and her black jean jacket was worn and faded. Her bright green eyes were shifty and questioning.  
  
"I was just looking for the ghosts," she muttered. The girl's eyes grew wide.  
  
"Ghosts? Really?" she said, her eyes dancing with delight. "Cool! Whose ghosts are they?"  
  
"Shh, just listen," TJ told her. She closed her eyes and listened hard. "Do you hear that?" he asked. She nodded.   
  
"Wow, they're everywhere!" she murmured. "That is so cool! You can hear their voices."  
  
"Yeah," TJ chuckled. "Well, I'd better be going. See ya, kid."  
  
"Bye Mister... uh, hey what's your name?"  
  
"Call me TJ. TJ Detwhieler," he told her. She threw her hands over her mouth with shock.  
  
"You're the Prankster Prince! You're a legend!"  
  
"I wouldn't go that far," he said as he climbed down.  
  
"But you are! You and Vince, and Mikey, and Gus, and Gretchen, and Spinelli! You're famous! You're my hero!"  
  
"Thanks, but I don't deserve it," TJ laughed. "You need a new idol, kid." He walked to his car slowly. "Heros don't make mistakes like mine."  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
"Ms Spinelli, You must understand that requests like this are very complicated."  
  
"I know, but I just have to know that he's alright."  
  
"Ms Spinelli, once you signed those papers, all of your rights were cut off, you understand that? And we would need the other signer here to undo what has been done. Even then, there's months worth of paper work..."  
  
"Maybe this was a bad idea. I'm sorry to waste your time."  
  
Spinelli stood up and walked out of the office. Why had she made such a stupid request? How could she have thought they would make a special exception for her? She may have bee a star, but this was still Concord. She was still 'Little Ashley Spinelli from Third Street'.   
  
Even adoption agencies had to follow the rules.   
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
AN: Sorry so short! Now, review! I need more reviews if I'm to continue. After all, I only write for my public.  
  
~Peaches(the First) 


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